Cooking Lessons
by katryne
Summary: *snatches Esme Weatherwaxe's sign* I ATEN'T DEAD. :P Trivial fluff piece. Ficlet in my 'Happy Birthday' universe, but so plot-lite, no research (on your part) is necessary. Enjoy.


Cooking Lessons

Ficlet #1 in the 'Happy Birthday' universe.

*disclaimer: Fainaru Fantashi Hachi-o motte imasen.

SquallxSeifer. Slash. Yaoi. Shounen-ai. Whatever you call it. They're having a homosexual relationship, okeday?

Summary: Squall can't cook. Squall is making Seifer teaching him how to cook. Poor Seifer.

Dedicated to: Annie D, the ficlet queen. ("Yeah! Ficlets are good! The point is, you don't even need a point!")

Additional note: I am a notorious procrastinator, and even a simple ficlet like this can take a bloody long time, because my muse (and I) are really lazy bastards. That said, Annie D, on the other hand, works at a speed that astounds me. And she writes better than I do for all that. Could almost be jealous, but too much in awe to bother. ^_^ Hmm… I wonder if that's enough praise for now. :P

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Cooking Lessons

"How do you cook water?"

"Excuse me?"

"Water. How do you get it all hot like that?"

"You mean, boiling the water?"

"Whatever."

"Well, you fill the kettle, like this, and turn the switch on. When it's done, it'll switch off by itself. You don't really cook water."

"Like this?"

"Yes."

"I knew that."

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Balamb Garden Communications System

  
Inbox: Selphie Tilmitt, SeeD Cadet rank 24 

**transmission received**

Date: 10/September   
Time: 14:30 am   
From: Quistis Trepe (qtrepe@garden.bl.net)   
BCC: zdincht@garden.bl.net, ikinneas@garden.bl.net   
Subject: General Warning 

Squall's making chocolate cake. 

Run. 

Quistis

**End transmission**

----------------------

The greatest source of evil in this world aren't Sorceress and their abuse of magic. Rather, Seifer decided, it's from bureaucrats and their never-ending paperwork. He tiredly massaged the sore spot between his eyebrows. If he never saw another requisition form regarding Fastitocalon feed, it wouldn't be a moment too soon.

Peace was too complicated sometimes for him, and he suspected, for the rest of them. Too battle hardened at their age, but what could you do about it? He still got nightmares, the weigh of the past bearing harder on him than the others, and for that, he was thankful. No one should share the terrors that lurked in his mind, in the past history of time.

Let the bureaucrats come. He'd gladly trade all the carnage he had done for all the red tape they could unleash on him.

He shook his head, mentally shrugging away the maudlin turn his thoughts were taking. There's a time and place for everything Seifer, he told himself. You can lose yourself in guilt later.

But if only those pencil pushers would ease up on the amount of paper they're generating…

Minutes passed and turned into hours. Seifer gave a small triumphant exhalation as the last of the paperwork finally made it into the 'Out' tray.

He looked at the clock. Shit. He better hurry, or he'll be late for dinner.

Oh no. Dinner…

It's not like he had anything against Squall cooking, he reassured himself as he helped himself with his coat. It's just that…

Well…

__

Seifer, man, let's face it. He sucks.

And that was exactly the problem. He knew Squall has the potential to be a decent cook. He knew that that potential needed time to be realised. He knew that in the meantime, possible suckage would most likely happen.

He knew all that. Squall apparently, missed the memo.

He was touched that his boyfriend had been very adamant about learning how to be self-reliant. What he hadn't counted on was how impatient said boyfriend might be. Also the fact that Squall was approaching the whole thing almost like he was going into battle could be a little unnerving. The more he told him to relax, the more determined he was that he wouldn't let such simple matters like batter and oil fluster him.

While the end results of most 'endeavours' had the unpleasant luck of being absolutely awful, he had to appreciate the moments leading to it. To use a word that would guarantee him immediate emasculation by Irate SeeD Commander (trademark nearly approved), Squall was simply adorable.

Sometimes, when he was being particularly diligent - here Seifer was imagining one such incident, streaks of flour decorating his cheeks while Squall was wrestling with an 'evil bit of pastry' (his words) - his tongue would peek out just a little, tantalising and wet…

Seifer groaned at the rush of arousal that swept through him. Hyne knows which one would kill him first; Squall's sex appeal or his cooking. 

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The first thing he noticed as he entered their apartment was the lack of any charred smell in the air. Unconsciously, he let out a small sigh of relief. The last time Squall burned his third attempt at lasagna, they had to stay at another room for a week while waiting for the smell to air out.

Tiredly, he took off his trenchcoat and flung it carelessly to the nearby sofa. Who knew just sitting at a desk an entire day and staring at the endless red tape could be so tiring?

__

Right. Stop thinking about work.

Don't think about dinner either.

Seifer sighed.

And so, with not a small amount of trepidation, Seifer Almasy, respected SeeD, stepped cautiously into the kitchen.

__

At least it's clean. The ceiling isn't burnt this time… No streaks of unidentified sauce… And damn, don't that ass look fine…

"You're back."

And Seifer could only say, "You're not cooking tonight?"

Squall narrowed his eyes a little at the faintly hopeful tone of his lover (while mentally, Seifer just gave his unthinking mouth a smackdown). "No. I'm pretty tired."

Looking carefully at Seifer's too innocent and too interested face, he continued, "but I made cake. Chocolate."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"It'll be better this time."

Automatic, "Of course."

"Wanna see?"

__

Okay Seifer, look interested! Look hungry. Look like it's actually tempting, like-

Wow.

Yeah. Like that.

The cake looked delicious, covered in rich chocolate icing, practically promising all sorts of decadent goodness. His mouth was beginning to water.

This time, his expression is sincere. "It looks amazing."

Squall couldn't quite keep the glow from his face while he nodded curtly. Without preamble, he cut a slice and handed it from the quite eager Seifer across the counter. Whose stomach suddenly remembered that it hadn't ate anything since 11 and gave a rumble in anticipation.

He tasted the icing, not noticing in his eagerness how much attention Squall was giving to the finger he was licking. "Oh, this is really really good!" Impatiently, he broke off a piece with his fingers, ignoring the offered fork and began munching enthusiastically.

A second later, the munching slowed considerably.

Much considerably.

A painful swallow later, Seifer asked, "Squall," he began gently. "just how many tablespoons of baking soda did you add?"

"Three…"

An eyebrow quirked upwards.

"…tablespoons…"

And Seifer couldn't stop coughing.

Hesitantly, as Squall tentatively stroked his back, the brunet asked, "Was that too much?"

Still struggling with his glass of water, Seifer shook his head feebly. "It's just-" 

Before he could stop him, Squall sampled a piece from his plate. And chewed thoughtfully. One last swallow, sighed and sat down on the stool with an unmistakable slump.

Lamely, Seifer said, "The icing was really really good."

From the muffled depths where Squall's head rested in his folded arms, a dejected voice answered, "But the cake is horrible."

__

Well, yeah…

"It's really not that bad."

Squall snorted, still hiding his face.

"Really," Seifer said, an over-eager smile on his face.

Another snort.

An uncomfortable silence, with Seifer shuffling his feet and Squall still communing with his armpits.

A while later, "I really like the icing."

"Give it up Seifer."

"No." And this time Seifer sat down next to his dejected lover and raised his head. Looking straight into those stormy grey, he said slowly, "Look, you can't exactly rush this you know. Did I tell you about the first omelette I cooked? More shell than egg. And I nearly poisoned Quistis with my first lasagna."

The stormy greys twinkled. A curve of the lips, barely noticeable, but there.

Encouraged, Seifer forged on, "And at least your cake looks like cake. Mine looks like a T-rexaur had diarrhoea and-"

"Ok, ok. I get it. I'm depressed already. I don't want to lose my appetite as well."

Seifer pressed his hand to the brunet's belly, and whispered, "Hungry?"

Squall squirmed a little. Seifer's touch was slightly firmer to be ticklish, but only just. "You bought dinner?" he said half-hopefully.

"I had faith in you."

The expression on the Commander's face can be described as, "Hah".

Sheepish, Seifer confessed, "I had a couple of pretzels on the way home, but I didn't wanna hurt your feelings."

"Very considerate. Ah well, I had canned corn earlier anyway…"

"Hey, you got any more of that icing left?"

Suspiciously, Squall answered slowly, "… yeah… In the refrigerator. Why?"

"Just you wait." There was a naughty gleam to his eye, Squall decided, as his lover left his stool to fetch the bowl of icing from the fridge. 

__

This could turn out to be very interesting, or very-

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he felt something cold smeared to the side of his neck. "What are y- oh…"

__

Very interesting indeed, he thought dizzily as he felt Seifer warm tongue suckling and cleaning away the last traces of the icing.

Even as all his senses concentrated on that small patch of skin, he felt gentle pressure on his lips from Seifer's liberally-coated fingers. The taste of rich chocolate exploded in his mouth and unconsciously he licked the teasing fingers.

"I wonder how you'd taste with chocolate all over…"

__

Well, you're not the only one with the naughty thoughts lover, Squall thought as he stopped Seifer's roving fingers and took a generous helping of the chocolate icing. His warm mouth cleaned the trail his fingers left on Seifer's jaw, working slowly, maddeningly, uncaring of the tight hold he was bound to, straining to be closer.

On that bit of exposed skin from the unbuttoned shirt, over that patch of inflamed flesh, that smelt of chocolate and saliva, he whispered, 

"As wonderful as you'd be, I'd imagine."

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Later, still on the kitchen, though now on the floors, with only the thin barrier of discarded clothes between them and the cold tiles, two figures tightly entwined lay quietly together.

Each halfway asleep, drowsily dreaming of each other and more chocolate.

A stomach rumbled.

"Pizza?"

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Author's p/s: Actually, I intended this to be a very graphic lemon, but then my brain was tired and it didn't want to think the many euphemisms to use to describe an erection and various other body parts. Heh. Hope you guys still like it.


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